


Inhibitions

by thegreatgayjatsby



Category: Psych
Genre: Exhausted Lassiter makes eager Lassiter, First Kiss, Lassiter is working a hard case and Jules and Shawn are worried, M/M, Public Kissing, Shawn convinces him to go home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 18:35:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7372960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatgayjatsby/pseuds/thegreatgayjatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Carlton is absolutely exhausted from working on a case and refuses to back down and go home, so Shawn steps in to convince him he has better things to be doing.</p><p>Alternatively; Juliet mentions Carlton never leaving the station anymore and Shawn uses the detective's exhaustion as an excuse to make out with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inhibitions

**Author's Note:**

> yes a better one than the first i wrote they are cute

Carlton’s lower back ached. His head throbbed. He was, to put it simply, absolutely exhausted. This case was killing him. He hadn’t been able to crack it in the three days it had been assigned to him, and his failure was staring him stark in the face. 

The department’s head detective had been settled, hunched over the case file, for what seemed to be hours. He hadn’t slept well the night before, and was sporting a serious crick in the neck. The strap of Carlton’s holster dug into his ribs, and Carlton found his hand creeping up to adjust the leather. 

It had become a nervous tick recently, the stress from the past few cases really grinding his resolve down. He let out a low, heavy sigh, and dropped the files he had been browsing (again). His fingers met his temples, and he began to attempt to banish his headache away. 

Just as he was making some progress with the steady, repetitive movements, a familiar voice in the otherwise quiet station met his ears. His eyes flicked up to the clock on the corner of his desk. 10:50 PM. There was no reason for Shawn Spencer to be here this late at night. This was exactly what he needed.

Shawn’s voice lilted up and down along with the lyrics of the song he was spouting out into the work space. Carlton’s eyes drifted shut, his headache flaring back up worse than before. “Spencer. Get out.” He ground out, the muscles in his jaw tight with aggravation. 

“Hello to you too, Lassie!” Shawn perched himself on the edge of Carlton’s desk, lounging casually and leaning down into Carlton’s personal space. 

Carlton felt a vein throb in his forehead. “Spencer.” He repeated, voice low and wrought with frustration. He had no patience for this. 

Shawn’s hand crept out and drew a paper from the open case file into his field of vision, quickly scanning over the information. Lassiter found he barely had the strength to seem exasperated when he snatched the papers away and hurriedly tucked them back into their labelled manilla folder. He shot a dark glower at the faux-psychic and wrenched open the lowermost drawer of his file cabinet. 

Once the folder was safely locked away in his cabinet, he turned back towards the thorn in his side. “Spencer. Go. Away.” He said slowly, careful not to let his voice betray just how tired he was. Sick of Spencer’s antics perhaps, and hesitant to reveal the reason behind that irritation. 

Spencer took a second to assess the situation, noting the bags under Carlton’s eyes, the coffee rings on the papers still left out, the unkempt looseness of Carlton’s tie, and the near constant shifting of his holster. He raised one eyebrow, then suddenly deposited himself in Carlton’s lap.

Carlton gaped at him, jaw working as he struggled to come up with something to sharp say in order to get Shawn to move, now, please. He couldn’t handle this. Not now. Not while he was still working on separating all his emotions for Spencer and stamping out the affectionate ones. 

“Lassie, c’mon.” Shawn was busy murmuring, clever fingers undoing the clasp of Carlton’s holster and removing it with a snick of leather on cotton. 

Lassiter’s mouth went dry. This was all he had imagined, and more. It was better, in that Shawn was warm, and heavy, and in his lap, and real. He sucked a low breath in and tilted his chin up, eyes darkening as he fixed Shawn with another hard stare. 

Shawn continued to play his hands up Carlton’s sides, leaving them to rest gently against Carlton’s shoulders. “I’m only here because Jules called me.” He admitted, giving Carlton’s shoulders a little squeeze. “She’s worried. I’m worried. You haven’t left the station since six this morning, and it’s been the same way all week. You’re the first one here, last one gone.” 

Carlton nodded slowly, figuring the physical reaction currently occurring in his lap and on his face could be blamed on exhaustion, or, perhaps being overworked. Deep down, though, he knew that Shawn would know that no matter how tired he was, all reactions were his to own up to. “I...I’m working a case, Spencer. I would appreciate it if you would leave me alone to finish it up.” 

“Face it, Lassie. Lassifrass. You aren’t going to finish it tonight. Let’s go home, right? Jules is really stressed out about this. You won’t quit yelling at her.” Shawn’s voice came gentle and persuasive in Carlton’s ears, and Lassiter’s eyes closed to the sensation of Shawn massaging the knots out of his shoulders.

Swallowing heavily, Shawn decided to make his move. Sure, Jules had called him, but he really was worried about his favorite detective. He licked his lips, then leaned in and kissed Carlton lightly. Carlton’s eyes snapped open, wide and panicked. He inhaled sharply through his nose, his hands, which had been hanging uselessly at his sides, raising to grasp at the base of Shawn’s skull. 

Taking two fistfuls of the other’s shaggy hair, Carlton drew Shawn to him and kissed him back fiercely. One hand slid down Shawn’s back to rest on the small of his back, and he canted his hips up. He was absolutely, in the name of Lady Justice, screwed. Spencer knew now, and he was too damn tired to care.

Shawn smiled into Carlton’s mouth and wound his tie around his hands and used it to brace himself as he met the motion of Carlton’s hips with his own. Carlton groaned, open-mouthed into Shawn’s mouth, and slid his tongue around the other’s bottom lip. 

The other smirked and rolled his hips again, stroking Carlton’s clavicle with one calloused thumb. With a nip to Carlton’s lip, he pulled back and booped Carlton on the nose lightly. “Lassie,” He began, a devious look plastered all across his face. “Come home.” 

Carlton snorted derisively at the fifties show reference, then gave a brief nod. “Yes. Yeah. Don’t mention this.” He said quickly, tucking an arm under Shawn’s thighs and lifting him up onto the edge of his desk. 

Shawn blinked with wide, doey eyes up at the other. He shifted, pressing his hips to Shawn’s again before stepping aside and gathering both his holster and coat. Tucking his phone into his pocket, he debated fishing the case files out of his cabinet and taking them home, but the idea flew from his mind the moment Shawn’s lips touched the side of his neck.

The detective guided Shawn quickly out the door and down the front steps of the station, then bundled him into his car. He practically launched himself into the driver’s seat, bent on bringing him back to his bed. Shawn grinned at his reflection in the rearview mirror, then plastered a few more kisses along Carlton’s jaw before lounging in the seat.

Carlton threw the car into reverse, backing out of the empty parking lot and roaring down the street. Shawn looked out the window, discretely texting Juliet. 


End file.
